


The cult of Kogepan

by olympia_m



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series, 闇の末裔 | Yami No Matsuei | Descendants of Darkness
Genre: Fluff and Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 02:26:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12831348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olympia_m/pseuds/olympia_m
Summary: What is the meaning of burned bread?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When I started writing fanfiction again, Shelly asked me if I would post my old stories. I don't like most of them, but some I have decided to share... Here's one of them. Originally posted at LJ, some 9-10 years ago...  
> (also, for some reason, fusing Yami no Matsuei with the Finder series had - and has - been a thing... what can I say?)
> 
> This had been written when I had been watching Kogepan... and even now, Kogepan is still love :)

Oriya raised an eyebrow, despite his best intentions to keep his cool. “What’s this?”

Ukyou smiled, blushing for a second. “A plushie?”

“I can see that. What is it?”

She took the toy from his hands and held it up. “It’s Kogepan. Mr Burned Bread.” She held it close to her for a second, petted it and then handed it back. “Here,” she said, reaching for her bag and moving her hand inside. Frustrated, she emptied it on the floor and then gave him one of the two books that were inside. “See? That’s the story of Kogepan.” 

Oriya took the book reluctantly. A children’s picture book about a burned bread? What on earth would he do with that? Or that plushie, for that matter? 

Ukyou started putting her things back in her bag. “You see, Kogepan was supposed to be this beautiful, most desirable bread but something went wrong and he got burned. After that, no one wanted it and…” She stopped moving for a second. “And Kogepan was very distressed about that and kept getting drunk and miserable, but…” She stopped trying to stuff everything into her bag, all the bits of paper and the pens and the random cosmetic products and her sunglasses and her scarf that were still out. “My niece was reading it when I went to visit them last month and it just felt so…” She smiled again. “It has a fairly positive ending.”

Oriya shuddered. “It’s not …”

Ukyou hugged herself. “Isn’t it? Weren’t we supposed to be the best? Always had the best grades in school, always considered the most popular, always got the most love letters than anyone or chocolates on Valentine’s day and…” She petted the plushie in Oriya’s hands, consciously avoiding touching him. “Do you think Muraki will come back one day?”

He nodded. Why couldn’t he tell her to stop looking for Muraki when he was right in front of her? Why couldn’t he stop looking for Muraki himself, for that matter? “But you’re wrong. You’re still the best.”

Ukyou giggled and covered her face with her hands. “Silly. You always say that. Be careful, one day I might believe you.”

“That’s why I’m saying it.” He sat down, placed Kogepan on his lap and opened the book. “Do you want me to read it to you?”

She nodded and pointed at a brush. 

“Of course,” he told her.

When he woke up the next day Ukyou was still sleeping by his side, smiling slightly with Kogepan in her arms, and his hair was tied in two neat braids. He didn’t untie them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still in fusion land... I don't remember how Feilong and Oriya get together anymore (I suspect this was part of another story, an omake, but, honestly, that had been so many years ago....)

Feilong bit back a snort. “What’s this?”

“A plushie.”

“I can see that.” Feilong was biting his lower lip as not to laugh. 

Oriya huffed. “Didn’t anyone tell you not to look in other people’s drawers?”

“You’re not other people.” Feilong raised an eyebrow, tilted his head a little to the left and stared at him. “Or are you?” As he moved, the robe fell, revealing the sharpness of his collarbone, the curve of his shoulder, the sculpted muscles of his arm, and flawless skin. Feilong glanced at it, and then let the robe fall further. “Well?”

Oriya’s breath caught in his throat. He managed to shake his head minutely, eyes drawn to the only imperfection on Feilong’s chest. That bullet mark reminded him of an exploding star, but the sky against it was of the colour of pale ivory. A star in the morning sky? 

Feilong smirked. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing to Oriya and he was enjoying it. “So, why do you have a toy in your drawer?”

“It’s Mr Burned Bread.” He stopped looking at Feilong and turned towards his desk. Where was the damned book? “He was supposed to be the best bread that his maker had made but he got burned and so no one wanted him.”

“Doesn’t sound like a good story.”

Oriya nodded. “It’s not exactly that. Kogepan was getting drunk and miserable, but he was lucky to have good friends who got drunk with him, or took him out or…” He smiled. Friends who came to visit him when he was lonely and kept him from getting too miserable. He found the book and showed it to Feilong. “Here.”

Feilong put the plushie down and took the book reluctantly. “I see,” he said, opening it carefully as if he was afraid the images would get him dirty. 

Oriya moved next to Feilong and took Kogepan in his arms. It always surprised him how soft it was. “Sometimes, things happen that are outside our control.” He found himself petting Kogepan and holding it tightly. “A lot of things that are unfair and miserable. But having friends helps, even if they can’t help all the time, or if you can’t help them either.”

Feilong closed the book. “Sounds like a bunch of nonsense. The kind of idiotic stuff you tell children to make them get along and play nice with each other.” But his tone was amused and then he smiled. “A nice kind of nonsense. You must be lucky if you can have such friends.” 

Oriya put Kogepan down. “May I comb your hair?” he asked instead of telling Feilong that he was his friend. 

Feilong nodded. “You may even braid it, if you want.” 

By the time Oriya was finished with his hair, Feilong was holding Kogepan, petting it softly, and smiling in contentment.


	3. Chapter 3

Unfortunately for Oriya, one of the things Feilong had learnt early in their relationship was that he was very easy to tease. Especially in the mornings, when he’d lie there, half-awake, trying to go back to sleep and failing, because a certain someone wouldn’t let him. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Feilong asked, sitting by his side and pulling his hair.

Everyone has a thing with my hair, he wanted to say, but it came out as a groan. He half-opened his eyes, glared at Feilong and then fully opened them when he realized Feilong was holding Kogepan in his arms. “Hm?” he raised a hand, making an interrogative gesture. 

“I’m beginning to see the virtues of Mr Kogepan.”

“Eh?”

“He is the silent, stoic type, isn’t he? Very masculine.”

Oriya sat up a little. “Eh?”

Feilong pushed him down, kept Kogepan out of reach and stood up. “You see,” he said, holding Kogepan up, making Oriya think of rescue scenarios for some reason, “He may look all lovely and round and soft,” he poked Kogepan’s belly and arms and head, “but, look at these eyes.” He thrust Kogepan in Oriya’s face, waved it about until Oriya felt dizzy and then moved it away again. “Do you see these cold, calculating eyes? He stares and stares until you’re freaked out and ready to cry out for mummy.”

Oriya did sit up. “Mr Kogepan.”

“I have further evidence.” Feilong raised Kogepan and shook him about. “When he decided to run away, he was the one to start and organize the journey. He was also the one to take the lead during it. After they came back to the bakery, he used a cunning method of alternating intimidation and praise to get the little, pretty breads to become his minions.”

“They’re pretty, little breads. They’re not minions.”

“Yes, they are. Don’t they do exactly what Kogepan tells them? Kogepan may think he’s an outcast, but in reality, he’s one of us.”

“Kogepan is no yakuza.” He pouted. Feilong was destroyed his… well, his very late and invented childhood. 

Feilong snorted. “Pff, yakuza. No, Kogepan is like us.” He pointed at himself. “He’s a Triad leader, organizing his tightly knit group on the basis of secrecy and loyalty.” 

“What secrecy?”

“What do you think they’re all doing behind the baker’s back?” He grinned. “See? You don’t have to pretend it’s a children’s story any more. It’s a metaphor for the life of a Triad lord.”

“It’s a burned bread.”

“It’s an anti-hero fighting against an oppressive and rigidly structured society, out to find a place for himself.”

Oriya fell back on the bed. “It’s too early for this. Did I mention I have a hangover?”

He smirked and poked Kogepan again. “Would Mr Kogepan care? No, he’d say ‘you reap what you sow.’ Right, Mr Kogepan?”

He sighed. “Leave Mr Kogepan out of this.”

Feilong squeezed Mr Kogepan. “In exchange for what?”

“Fuck you.” He rolled around. His head suddenly started hurting. 

Feilong pulled his hair again. “It’s okay. I know that you agree with me, even though you want to pretend that it’s a children’s story.” Just as suddenly Feilong left him. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Nothing.” He wanted Kogepan. 

“I’ll get you some toast,” Feilong said. Kogepan landed in front of him. “And juice.”

Oriya grabbed Kogepan and hugged him as tightly as he could. “Kogepan is no proto-yakuza,” he mumbled. “Or a metaphor for being a Triad leader. Kogepan is Kogepan.”

Feilong laughed. “That’s what you think.”

He nuzzled Kogepan. It smelled of Feilong’s aftershave. When his head stopped hurting, he’d prove Feilong wrong. Until then, he could try sleeping a little. Perhaps. 

The smell assaulted him the moment the door opened. Oriya refused to open his eyes even when Feilong sat beside him. 

"A burned bread is a burned bread," Feilong told him, and from the smell of it, a slice of burned toast was moving right in front of him. He wondered if Feilong touched that with his bare hands and so opened his eyes. No, he wasn't; Feilong was wearing white gloves, almost pure white, except for the smudges in the area of the fingertips. "See? There's nothing romantic about a burned bread."

Oriya groaned. "I bet it's soft inside," he muttered and broke a piece. It was burned all the way through. "That's disappointing."

Feilong smirked. "Exactly. And that's the secret of Kogepan and the key to his success. He's all black, burned to the core. Why do you think he rejected Strawberry Bread at the end of the series?"

"Because it was pink?"

"Because it was weak, and soft and he knew that it was a liability. Kogepan has no need for such things."

Oriya sat up. Were they still talking about breads? He broke another piece of toast and ate it slowly. It was horrible, but he'd eaten worse. Ukyou. He smiled. "I don't remember him rejecting Strawberry Bread."

"Because he made it seem as if he hadn't, but he had." Feilong looked awfully certain of that. "That way, he could use Strawberry Bread in the future."

"Another minion?"

"Yes." Feilong grinned. "There's no reason for making unnecessary enemies. And Strawberry Bread is so pretty that it must have its uses. Especially against that nasty baker."

"But the happiness of breads is to be sold and eaten. The baker is necessary."

Feilong snorted. "How customer-oriented. No, the happiness of breads is in existing and serving themselves. After all, why do you think Kogepan was able to intimidate the little breads by telling them they would get eaten? No one wants to be eaten."

"He did that? I don't remember that."

"Maybe, but then again, your memory is highly selective." Feilong made a face and then shrugged. "Not that I mind." He leaned closer. "You know Kogepan's true aim? To take control of the bakery."

"Really?"

"Yes. And then he can have all the profits. I bet the only reason he was studying about breads was that. Who knows, perhaps he even plans to sell pretty Strawberry Bread in prostitution, or maybe make it breed and make a lot more pretty, little strawberry breads that will fetch a high price."

Oriya took the toast from Feilong's fingers and put it back on the plate, but not before breaking another piece. "You have a very active imagination."

"And you like burned things." He grimaced. "How can you eat that?"

"Because, even though it's burned, there's still a hint of sweetness. And you brought it for me."

Feilong stared at him. Then he stood up. "I also brought non-burned toast. And jam and butter and..." He laughed. "And the entire series of Kogepan books so that I can prove to you once and for all that he's one of us."

Oriya smiled. As if he'd ever believe in anything else but the inner strong sweetness of Kogepan.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, I can't remember why they are together with Muraki either.... *embarrassed grin*

Asami glared at Kirishima. “What’s so funny?” Hopefully not the fact that he had someone else open his birthday gift from Feilong. One could never be too careful when dealing with that guy. 

Kirishima was trying not to laugh. “Nothing,” he managed, biting his lips. 

Akihito peeked into the box, despite Asami’s frown and implicit command to stay back. Then Akihito giggled, not even trying to stop himself from laughing. 

“What’s so funny?” he repeated, feeling stupid. No one had the right to laugh at him, not even Akihito.

Kirishima bowed deeply. “I’m sorry, Asami-sama,” he said and ran out of the room. Asami could hear guffaws behind the door. 

“Well?” he asked Akihito again, as he approached the box carefully. A look inside and he frowned. “What the …?”

Akihito took out the toy and held it up for inspection. “It’s Mr Kogepan. It was one of my favourite stories when I was younger.” 

Now too? He smirked and then frowned again. “Mr. Kogepan?” He was not amused. 

“Yes. He’s a burned bread that no one wanted, but…” Akihito grinned. “Oh, there’s a card too.” Akihito read it, turned a curious shade of red and then started laughing. 

Asami grabbed the card. ‘Dear Asami, enjoy. A little something before you grow too old for such things.’ “That bastard.” What the fuck had that meant? “Enjoy? What’s there to enjoy?”

Akihito blushed again. “There’s a message at the back,” he said. Then he walked, practically running, towards the door. “I just remembered. I have something in the oven.”

“What? Don’t lie to me.” Akihito’s cooking was dreadful. He almost got food poisoning when he tried the cake Akihito had made for him on his birthday. “And what kind of a birthday gift is sent weeks after the occasion? Feilong really is trying to piss me off.” Then he read the note at the back of the card. For a minute he froze, then he took out his gun and went after Akihito. “Aki, bring me that fucking toy,” he shouted. That toy would die.

Meanwhile, in a place not exactly close to Asami’s (in a different prefecture, to be exact), Feilong stretched against Oriya. “Do you think he will have gotten my gift by now?”

“Who? What? Gift?” Muraki, Oriya’s annoying friend and other lover, walked into the room. 

Feilong glared at Muraki as he hugged Oriya. That was his weekend, damn it. He wouldn’t give up his rights on Oriya without a fight and he let Muraki see that. 

“Feilong sent a belated birthday gift to Asami,” Oriya explained calmly as he poured sake in a cup and offered it to Muraki, the bastard. 

“Belated? How rude.” Muraki grinned as he sat down. “How old is Asami now?”

“Thirty-five,” Feilong said, still glaring at Muraki and nudging Oriya to refill his cup. 

“For the sixth time?” Muraki asked, pseudo-innocently.

“Don’t be mean,” Oriya answered him. “The fifth.” He finally poured sake in Feilong’s cup. 

“So, what did you get him?”

“A Kogepan toy.”

“A Kogepan dressed in a white suit and carrying a camera,” clarified Oriya. 

“It’s his love-child with Akihito, that’s why.” Feilong smiled. And he’d let Asami know exactly why he’d chosen such a Kogepan. 

Muraki raised both eyebrows. “Impressive. He’s going to come after you for that.”

“Let him try.”

Muraki nodded. “So, you’ve been introduced to the Kogepan cult?”

“It’s not a cult,” Oriya said, and then freed himself from Feilong’s arms and went to check the view outside. He suddenly turned the lights off. 

Muraki looked strange in the moonlight, otherworldly. “It is a cult. On the surface, it’s about a burned bread, but when you read it more closely, it’s a story about fate and acceptance and those two, Oriya and Ukyou I mean, believe in such stupid things. Have they converted you yet? Taught you that yielding is all one can expect from life?”

Oriya opened the glass door. “I’m going to the hot spring.” 

Muraki snorted. “It’s true,” he continued as if he didn’t care that Oriya had left them. “Kogepan’s story is dangerous. It can make people lazy.”

Feilong smirked. “I think you weren’t reading the same books as I was. Kogepan’s friends fight with him over his fatalistic attitude. When will I meet Ukyou?”

Muraki stiffened. Then he stood up. “If you won’t join Oriya, I will.”

Feilong stood up as well. As if he would let that happen. He walked besides Muraki towards the outdoor hot spring. “When it’s your weekend, I’ll join you too.”

Muraki laughed. 

“And,” Feilong continued, “if it’s a cult, it’s one about friendship. Maybe that’s why you don’t get Kogepan’s story.”

Muraki didn’t reply. Feilong considered that a sign of victory. 

Meanwhile, back in Asami’s place, Asami lunged on Akihito. “I’ll kill that thing,” he shouted. 

Akihito held the toy closely. “No, not our child,” he laughed. 

Asami glared at him. “Don’t tell me you believe this nonsense.”

“No, but I just can’t imagine Feilong buying this. Can you?”

Asami pushed Akihito on the bed. “That is irrelevant.” Although the image of Feilong entering a toy shop in order to buy Mr. Kogepan was rather ridiculous. 

Akihito threw the toy on the floor and stretched on the bed. “So, what is relevant?”

“This.” Asami turned Akihito over and pulled down his sweat pants and his boxer shorts. “You dared laugh at me,” he said, smacking Akihito. 

“Ouch.” Akihito wiggled against him. “That hurt.”

“Did it?” Asami smacked him again. He wasn’t having Akihito by his side so that Akihito could laugh at him. 

“Yes.” 

Akihito tried to break free and Asami grabbed his hands. He tied them behind Akihito’s back with his tie. “And what about this?” He put more power behind his blow this time. 

Akihito cocked his head and stuck his tongue out. “That too.”

“Good.” He hit Akihito again. His buttocks were turning a nice shade of red and the skin felt warmer already. “You deserve to be punished. So shut up and take it.”

“So you say.” Akihito stuck his tongue out again. 

Asami hit him, smiling at Akihito’s cry. Then he kissed the small of his back. “After punishment comes reward,” he said.

“I don’t want neither punishment nor reward.”

“So stubborn.” Another smack, another kiss, lower this time. Akihito’s gasp was one of pleasure this time. Asami grinned. 

Meanwhile, back at that other place, in an outdoor hot spring, Feilong was glaring at Muraki over Oriya’s shoulder. Muraki was grinning back at him. 

Oriya ducked inside the water. When he resurfaced, he was facing them, smiling. “You act just like children. And I don’t have sex with minors.”

Feilong blinked. From the corner of his eye he could see that Muraki looked just as shocked. 

“Mean, Oriya,” Muraki said. 

Oriya snorted and moved to the other side of the spring, where he pretended not to watch them. 

Muraki shrugged and stopped Feilong when he tried to follow Oriya. “Then, that means that we children can play together, right? Mr. Adult here will supervise us, and make sure nothing improper will happen.”

Considering Muraki’s reputation, it was an offer of truce. Feilong nodded slightly. “After all, we’ve never played together, have we?” He was no prude, unlike Mr. Adult. 

Muraki’s eyes gleamed. Then he too nodded. “Indeed,” he said, moving next to Feilong, lifting a strand of his hair and kissing it. 

Oriya stopped pretending after that.


End file.
